


For Once in My Life

by Gleennui



Category: Glee
Genre: 60 minutes, Break Up, Cuddling, Declarations Of Love, Episode: s03e08 Hold On to Sixteen, Falling In Love, Falling Out of Love, Friends to Lovers, Fuckurt Big Bang, Klaine Break-Up, M/M, Masturbation, Realizations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5394509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleennui/pseuds/Gleennui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By Sectionals senior year, Puck’s mostly resigned himself to getting through the rest of high school without becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. But while performing “Man in the Mirror,” he’s struck with the realization that Finn is who he’s been looking for all along. And unbeknownst to Puck, the same performance was signaling the END of a New Directions relationship–one whose demise could help Puck in unexpected ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Once in My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Fuckurt Big Bang Challenge 2015](http://fuckurtbigbang.tumblr.com) on tumblr
> 
> Art by Mapgirl

It wasn’t exactly where Noah Puckerman thought he’d be falling in love for the first time. Or, if he’s honest with himself, _realizing_ he was in love for the first time. Not that he’d ever planned where he’d be when he fell in love, or even had a preference, but if he’d sat down and made a list, smack-dab in the middle of a glee club performance for a competition Puck really really wanted to win wouldn’t have even cracked the top five three years ago.

But here he is, and here Finn is, and here they all are in tuxedos with white dinner jackets. Well not _all,_ he mentally corrects himself, and maybe the absence of Rachel on stage with them is what lets everything come to the surface. Because one minute, he’s singing the chorus with everyone else, and the next thing he knows, Finn is _looking_ at him, completely unchoreographed, and the look, mixed with the way the lyrics are suddenly coming into focus, hits Puck like a punch to the gut. If his gut was actually his heart and the punch was falling in love with his best friend. 

And then once it hits him, once he realizes it, Puck can’t _stop_ thinking about it, and he thinks about it all the way through “Man in the Mirror”-- about how Finn is totally the person MJ talks about wanting to be and about how so many of those things make Finn exactly who Puck wants. As they hold their positions and the last notes of the song fade into applause, Puck’s thinking is cut short by whooping and shouting and hugs--all three of those at once from Sam, somehow unsurprisingly. Puck’s not sure, in that moment, if he _really_ wants a hug from Finn or wants to avoid contact as much as possible, but the decision is made for him when Finn comes barreling over to him and lifts Puck off the ground in a hug, like they used to the summer Finn had a growth spurt and ended up eight inches taller than Puck for a little while. 

“Hell yeah!” Finn shouts against the side of Puck’s head, as they all start to herd off stage, and Puck knows Finn probably didn’t mean for it to be intimate, but his voice is low and tingling right near Puck’s ear. 

Puck cuts off his own shudder. He’s almost impressed by how quickly the switch flipped in himself once he realized, but he wishes it would have waited for a more convenient time before letting his body in on the secret. He doesn’t answer Finn with words--just yells back--and then Finn sets him back down before Puck has to decide if he wants Finn to say things in his ear again or not. 

Finn slings an arm over Puck’s shoulder as Kurt and Blaine run up. Kurt has a funny look on his face, Puck thinks, a little wild-eyed, but Blaine is grinning and Kurt otherwise looks fine, so Puck figures Kurt’ll get over whatever it is. Puck’s got his own processing to do, but for now, he wants to soak up every moment of this. High school’s not usually full of this kind of glory. 

 

Puck’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to do with this newfound revelation of feelings. He puts off thinking about it during the post-judging celebration, when he finds himself again getting lifted off the ground by a whooping Finn, and he puts off thinking about it as they change and gather in the auditorium, minus Quinn and Rachel. Quinn’s absence makes Puck uneasy. It makes him uneasy _enough_ , in fact, that he doesn’t even have to actively avoid thinking about Finn in order not to think about him. But then Quinn and Rachel show up together, arm-in-arm, walking like that word that always makes Puck think of the circus-- _traipsing_ \--and Quinn smiles at Puck. It’s not her “I’m going to make your life miserable,” smile, though, so Puck feels mostly better, or better enough that he has to remind himself not to think about Finn again.

It works all the way through their song with the ex-Troubletones and almost the entire time they’re all walking out to their cars, Puck and Finn falling into a sort of exhausted rhythm as they head for their side-by-side trucks.

“What a day!” Rachel calls, breathless-sounding as she runs up from behind them and walks on Finn’s other side, clearly having to take two steps to Finn and Puck’s one. “We won Sectionals _and_ our friends came back! Of course I was not 100% responsible for the competition success, but I’m sure you can acknowledge that I had a significant amount of influence on the events leading up to the performance, if not the performance itself, by virtue of my presence in the audience.” 

Puck scowls to himself, but Finn either doesn’t see or ignores him, because Puck can see him turn toward Rachel. “You definitely did, Rach. Good job supporting us.” 

Puck rolls his eyes so hard it actually hurts and speeds up, getting in his truck before Finn and Rachel are anywhere near Finn’s. Puck drives past them, catching the look on Finn’s face while he does. Finn looks confused and a little hurt, but Puck can’t let himself worry about that. Finn chose Rachel. Finn keeps choosing Rachel. And this thing he feels for Finn, that doesn’t seem like the kind of “thing” that’s going to go away soon, isn’t going to fit in very well in any kind of scenario where Finn’s chosen Rachel for good. 

There are two ways this can go, Puck’s figured out by the time he pulls into his driveway. One is that Finn breaks up with Rachel and Puck gets Finn to himself while he tries to figure out if Finn could ever feel anything back. Puck knows he probably should feel weird about the idea of wanting Finn all to himself, but right now it just sounds kind of awesome. The other way it could go is Puck just forces himself not to think about it until graduation and then heads west as soon as he’s got his diploma. He’d have to avoid Finn for a while afterward depending on how long it takes Puck to learn to live with these feelings, which sounds miserable to Puck and not at all how he’d thought about his future when he factored Finn into it. 

He can’t think of any option in between, though, or any third result, so he trudges into his room, giving his Ma a thumbs-up on his way past her when she asks about Sectionals, and flops onto his bed face-first, still in his post-competition change of clothes. There’s nothing he can do about either of those options now, he figures, so wallowing in his misery seems as good a thing to do as any. 

 

After “ABC” and the rush of his solo, Kurt finds the rest of their set almost relaxing. The constant awareness of stage presence feels natural to him after so many years of performance and envisioning performance, so Kurt lets his mind wander. Blaine does a great job on “Control,” and Kurt watches him out of the corner of his eye every time he steps to the front of the stage. Something feels...strange, though. He keeps waiting and waiting, all the way through “Control” and into Blaine’s verse in “Man In the Mirror,” to feel that swell of pride he usually feels when he sees Blaine perform. Kurt had felt it the first time before he even knew who Blaine was, and he’d felt it every time since, even during the GAP performance when most of the pride was replaced by second-hand embarrassment. 

But this time he feels weirdly empty, like he’s watching Blaine as a casual observer. Sure, Blaine’s talented, but Kurt can’t make himself get that visceral fluttering in his chest. It’s sort of unsettling, and maybe even terrifying, the feeling of not reacting as usual to his boyfriend. It could be a fluke; maybe it’s the atmosphere or the lights or Kurt’s lingering solo adrenaline, and that reassurance works for all of two or three more lines of the song, until _I’ve been a victim of/a selfish kind of love_ and Kurt almost stumbles over his own feet. Because that’s him. And Blaine. That’s him and Blaine and their relationship and suddenly Kurt doesn’t think he can be dating Blaine even a day longer. 

The certainty sits in Kurt’s stomach all the way through the rest of the performance. He tries to pull away from Blaine’s celebratory affection after the curtain closes and again after the results are announced, but Blaine gives him successive wounded looks, his head tilted and lips pouted, and Kurt has to sigh and fake it. Breaking up with Blaine in the middle of a group of cheering New Directions, including his brother and best friend, seems like a logistically terrible idea. The last thing he needs is for Blaine not to hear him over the noise and make Kurt have to try again over the weekend. 

By the time Kurt gets home, he’s exhausted from thinking and pretending. Blaine had suggested they go to the Lickity Split for milkshakes, but Kurt had begged off with a mention of working at the shop in the morning and kissed Blaine placidly on the mouth, driving away before Blaine could argue. 

Kurt slowly undresses and crawls into bed, ignoring the banging around he’s hearing from Finn’s side of the wall. All his muscles feel sore and cramped, like he’d been sitting cross-legged and hunched over for hours. He stretches slowly, groaning, and runs both hands over his face, exhaling loudly through pursed lips. Once the thought had hit him, he hadn’t been able to let go of it, and the more he turns it over in his head, the surer he is that his relationship with Blaine is awful for both of them. _A selfish kind of love_. Kurt rolls over onto his side. He can’t remember the last time Blaine had done anything for anyone, including Kurt, that didn’t put his own needs and benefits first. Even transferring to McKinley hadn’t really been for Kurt so much as Blaine wanting to be on a winning glee club. 

The more Kurt thinks about it, the more conversations and actions float across his memory like one of those old slideshows Kurt’s grandfather had made him watch of his fishing trips to Lake Michigan in the 80s. Blaine placating Kurt with Pavarotti. Blaine willfully ignoring Kurt’s feelings for him but having no problem leading Kurt on until _he_ was ready to like Kurt back. Blaine interrupting Kurt’s excited plans to move out of state to tell Kurt he loves him…

Kurt groans again. He knows he’s being dramatic, but he’s pretty sure Blaine’s been using him for months. His head is starting to pound now, but he wracks his brain, trying to remember a time when Blaine actually asked Kurt what _he_ wanted. Ten minutes later and a throbbing pain over his eyes, Kurt’s got nothing, and he gives up, padding to his bathroom for Advil and a sleeping pill. If he’s going to break up with Blaine in the morning, he’s going to need his sleep. He can deal with everything else tomorrow. 

Even with the Advil and sleeping in until 10, Kurt’s foggy and sore when he wakes up. He’s pretty sure he slept in the same position all night, and everything cracks when he rolls out of bed and pulls on a robe and slippers. Finn’s already at the kitchen table, chewing on a Pop-Tart in what looks to Kurt like an incredibly morose manner and slurping at a cup of coffee. 

“You too?” Kurt asks as lightly as possible but not really succeeding, as pulls down his Phantom mug. He pours himself a cup of coffee and adds cream, stirring almost absently while he stares at an errant spot of grease on the backsplash. 

“Mmph,” Finn says, taking a huge bite of Pop-Tart. 

“You think we’d be happier, having just won a major competition,” Kurt muses, sitting across from Finn. Finn slides him the box of Pop-Tarts without looking up from his morose eating and coffee-slurping. “Then again, I suppose a lot of things got shaken up yesterday.”

“Wha’s tha supposed to mean?” Kurt looks up from his coffee to see Finn staring at him a little wide-eyed, his mouth full of breakfast pastry. 

Kurt blinks. “Well. The Troubletones dissolved, for one. Sort of.” He unwraps a Pop Tart package, wrinkling his nose. They’re brown sugar flavor. “I overheard Mercedes telling Tina that the rest of girls are going to be on our official competition roster for one number each set.” He shrugs. “It’s a nice compromise, but The Troubletones never should have existed in the first place.” 

“Yeah, well, some people who didn’t even perform ended up mad, and some people who performed and won ended up mad, too, and so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.” Finn shoves the rest of his Pop Tart in his mouth--his...fourth, Kurt guesses, after a quick look in the box that had been sealed the day before--and makes a “mmph” noise again, apparently done talking. 

“I think,” Kurt says carefully, breaking off a piece of pastry and fiddling with it. “it’s good we’re graduating in May. It feels like a lot of us are starting to outgrow high school and high school relationships.” 

Finn stares at Kurt, his brow furrowed, and his eyes flit all over Kurt’s face like he’s looking for something. “Yeah,” he nods. “Maybe.” He stands up and takes his plate and mug to the sink, letting them clatter there. He stares down into the sink for a long enough moment that Kurt considers just handing Finn the dish soap, but then he walks away and heads up the stairs without another word. 

Kurt sighs. “Must be the season.” He finishes his own coffee in three gulps and washes his dishes and Finn’s, drying his hands on a dishtowel thoughtfully. If Finn’s feeling miserable too, maybe Kurt could put off the breakup until Monday. No use eclipsing Finn’s misery with Kurt’s own drama. They might as well both have the weekend to stew. 

 

Finn watches Puck’s truck pull away and opens his mouth several times, wanting to say something but not sure what he’d say, even if Puck wasn’t long in the distance, his rattling transmission barely able to be heard around the corner. Puck had _glared_ at him as he drove past, and Finn has no idea why, but he can’t stop staring at the spot where Puck had pulled out of the parking lot. He knows Puck was tired--he’d know Puck’s tired face anywhere--but this wasn’t a glare from tired. This was Puck’s angry face. Or his hurt face. Or his hurt-angry face. And Finn can’t figure out what he did to make Puck look that way, especially when the face was obviously meant for him. 

“You know,” Finn looks down. He’d forgotten that Rachel was still there at all, much less holding his hand and now, apparently, sliding her hand up his stomach. “Both of us deserve congratulations on our victory tonight.” She traces little circles along Finn’s ribs, pressing against his side, and looks up at him, smiling, her eyes wide. 

Finn shakes his head, and it’s probably a little harder than he intended, because Rachel pulls her hand away fast. “I’m really tired, Rach. I’m just going to go right to bed after I drop you off. Sorry,” he adds, when Rachel takes a step back from him and frowns, looking a little stunned. “Rain check?” 

He’s not sure if he actually looks sorry enough for Rachel, but she nods anyway, still looking awfully sad. They drive to Rachel’s in almost-silence, except Rachel keeps making little “hmph” noises and adjusting and re-adjusting her skirt. When he drops her off, her walks her to her door, like usual, but when he leans down for a kiss, she turns her face so Finn gets a mouthful of ear and hair. 

“I’ll see you in school on Monday, Finn,” she says, making a sniffing noise, and turns fast away from Finn and into her house before Finn can even blink. 

Finn sighs, running a hand over his face, and settles heavily back into his truck. He’s still not sure what happened, but somehow he managed to piss off both his best friend and his girlfriend before--Finn checks his phone, since the dashboard clock hasn’t worked since he bought the truck--11pm. He’s pretty sure that’s some kind of fucking record or something. 

Kurt’s not home yet when Finn pulls up, so Finn parks on the curb. He’ll let Kurt take the garage, since there’s nothing about his old truck any robbers would want. There’s not even a console where Finn could be hiding anything really expensive. He heads into the kitchen, where he stares blankly into the refrigerator for a minute before giving up and stomping upstairs probably way louder than necessary. 

Finn continues his stomping all the way through his bedtime preparations, not really caring who hears, and then he throws himself down on the bed, satisfied with the creaking noise it makes. Finn lies in the silence for a minute, almost startled by how quiet it feels without his own racket. He debates whether or not he should try to figure out what the hell happened in the parking lot, but the decision is mostly made for him when his brain won’t stop thinking about it. 

Rachel throws tantrums a lot, which Finn has to admit this was. He usually doesn’t mind them, because they’re over pretty quick and because they’re the flip side of Rachel caring a _lot_ about things, which Finn thinks is awesome. But this time, her tantrum bothered Finn more than usual, which Finn figures has to mean something. He knows she’d wanted to make out, which Finn usually likes. She never wants to make out for long, and she never pushes for more or asks for less than she tells him they’ll be doing before they start. Kissing Rachel is _nice_. It’s nice and predictable and Finn likes it. 

He likes it _usually_ , but right at that moment, watching Puck pull away, the idea of kissing Rachel had been awful. Finn makes a face, because Rachel’s not _gross_ or anything. She’s really pretty and small and she has nice hair. But the last thing he wanted to do was have her body up against his and her mouth giving him little kisses “exactly timed to my breaths, Finn.” 

Thinking about Puck driving away makes Finn think about Puck’s face when he drove away, and that makes Finn think about how he’d felt when he saw Puck’s face driving away. And the more he thinks about _that_ , the more awful he feels, a sick kind of sour feeling in his stomach like he did something really wrong and now he’s in trouble. 

Except Finn still has no idea what he did wrong except walk next to Puck and talk to Rachel, and he does both of those things all the time. If he could figure out why Puck was hurt-angry, he could apologize, maybe by bringing over a tube of cookie dough each and some pop like when they were kids. Finn sighs and brings his pillow over his face, grumbling into it. Even if Finn could figure out what he did that made Puck so upset, he can’t understand why Puck being upset makes _him_ so upset, and not in that way he usually gets where he wants to make Puck feel better right away. He’s actually _scared_ about Puck being upset with him and what that would mean. Finn huffs loudly as images start floating through his head even though he definitely did not give them permission to be there. Puck ignoring him the rest of the year. Puck ignoring him at graduation. Never talking to Puck again. The pictures and thoughts are so awful that Finn can feel tears at the corners of his eyes, which makes him feel even worse. 

Now he’s terrified and miserable and confused all at once, but the thoughts won’t leave him, so he tosses and turns and stares at his time on his phone until he gets disgusted with himself and flings it across the room. It’s not until Finn’s _finally_ drifting off to sleep that he realizes he hasn’t thought about Rachel in hours. 

 

The rest of the weekend goes pretty much the way Puck figured. He spends most of it in his room, watching tv and playing Mario by himself, which he reminds himself might be how it’s just gonna be from now on. He doesn’t hear from Finn until Sunday night, probably because he’s been with his _girlfriend_ all weekend. Puck snorts to himself when he thinks that. Rachel probably didn’t stop talking all weekend. Talking and grabbing Finn’s hand and asking Finn to tell her over and over how “important she is to the success of glee.” 

Puck hasn’t been thinking about school and Monday, mostly because his general malaise has kept him occupied enough, but also because there’s not a whole lot he can do about which direction all of this goes in. A year ago, even, Puck would have been able to say that he could have talked Finn into breaking up with Rachel. He wouldn’t have done it for no reason, and he wouldn’t have done it at all if he’d thought that Rachel was a good girlfriend for Finn, but if he’d wanted to do it, Finn would have listened. But now, Finn keeps making googly eyes at Rachel and hinting around to Puck about “after college” like maybe he’s changing his mind about breaking up with Rachel over the summer after all. The ironic thing--and Puck grins a little to himself, thinking about how his English teacher would be so proud--is that now that Finn won’t listen to Puck about Rachel, the reasons they should break up are even more important. 

Puck glares down at his phone, where Finn’s text had shown up half an hour before. He can admit to himself, now that he’s a couple days removed from the parking lot, that most of this isn’t Finn’s fault. There’s no law against dating a girl in high school, and it’s not like Finn _asked_ Puck to fall in love with him. But now Puck knows he’s in love with Finn, Finn being with Rachel feels like just one more time he’s picked Rachel over Puck. 

Puck picks up his phone and swipes it on, sitting on the edge of his bed and feeling like he must look like he’s ready to bolt. 

_u ok_

Puck frowns. Finn doesn’t usually use punctuation anyway, but the missing question mark feels glaring, somehow, like Finn sent the text before he could lose his nerve. Puck pictures Finn at home, feeling as miserable as Puck does, and that doesn’t make sense at all. Maybe Puck’s doing that thing they learned in psychology. Projecting. 

_Good as it’s gonna get_

It’s not a lie, really. Unless Finn breaks up with Rachel between now and Monday morning, Puck’s not going to feel any better than he does right now, on his bed in his sweats watching 60 Minutes and eating microwave popcorn he found in the baking cupboard behind the flour. 

_r u mad at me_

Puck raises an eyebrow. That means that Finn’s been at least thinking about the parking lot tonight, which Puck tells himself maybe makes sense since Rachel’s got to be home by now. It makes him feel slightly better, he has to admit, which he also feels guilty about since he doesn’t _want_ Finn to be upset. But as long as Puck’s got to be upset because of his whole in-love-with-Finn thing, Finn might as well be a tiny bit aggravated, too. 

_Not exactly_

_what r u doing_ Finn’s reply comes back fast, so he must have his phone in his hands. That makes Puck smile a little, thinking about Finn waiting to hear from Puck so much. 

_Morleys on_

Puck lets himself full-on grin when he sends the message, knowing Finn’s rolling his eyes like he does every single Sunday night. 

_can i come over_

Puck’s first impulse is to say yes. Well, no, Puck’s actual first impulse is to get in his truck and drive to Finn’s and lock them in Finn’s room, but that’s not an option. Puck’s second impulse is to say no, because even thinking about Finn right now is making his chest hurt and he’s just not sure if hanging out will just end up making both of them feel worse. 

He goes with the first one.

Finn shows up at Puck’s bedroom door, followed closely by Puck’s sister, who grins and tells Puck she let Finn into the house. Finn tousles her hair and she scampers away, off to what Puck assumes is the 15th rewatch of one of the _Harry Potter_ movies, from what he can hear. 

“Hey,” Finn says quietly, stepping just inside the door. Puck rolls his eyes, but he grins to let Finn know he’s not mad. He figures he’d want Finn to do the same for him. He _has_ wanted Finn to do the same for him. 

“Get in here, dingus. I’m not going to bite.” Puck realizes what he said and feels his eyes widen, but he realizes there’s no way Finn could possibly know what he’s thinking. 

“I know that,” Finn says, sticking out his tongue, and then Puck _does_ shift somewhat uncomfortably, positive Finn can read his mind this time. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Puck says, and gestures at the tv. “They’re talking about some acrobat circus show.” 

Finn sits on Puck’s bed, close so enough his hand grazes the back of Puck’s neck where he’s sitting on the floor, the bag of popcorn still in his lap. Puck shudders like he used to when they’d play the egg-cracking game in elementary school gym. To Finn’s credit, either hs doesn’t notice or he’s totally fine with giving Puck the shivers, because he leaves his hand where it is.

They watch the rest of 60 Minutes in silence, Finn occasionally clearing his throat or shifting on the bed. 

“It’s pretty weird without Andy Rooney,” Puck says, standing up and tossing the popcorn bag in the garbage. Puck’s standing up must have startled Finn, because Puck sees him straighten up and yank his hand back to rest on his knee. 

“If you say so, dude,” Finn shrugs and grins with one side of his mouth.

“Yeah, I say so. And I’m right. It’s weird.” Now it’s Puck’s turn to stick out his tongue. 

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. You’re the king of all the 60 Minutes stuff. Now can we play Mario?” 

 

Kurt had thought he’d be able to avoid Blaine until at least third period, when Blaine usually meets him at his locker to walk to their classes on the same wing, but when Kurt gets to his locker first-thing, Blaine is leaning against it, looking mournfully at Kurt. 

“You didn’t call me all weekend,” Blaine says, and it sounds almost like a whine. 

“I know,” Kurt says simply. “I was helping my dad.” He crowds Blaine’s space until Blaine steps back. Kurt spins his combination, aware that Blaine is still hovering, close enough he can hear Blaine’s breathing. 

“Well, I just thought--” Blaine stops, and Kurt can tell he’s waiting for Kurt to interject an apology. When Kurt doesn’t answer, Blaine continues anyway. “We didn’t get to spend _any_ time together.” 

Kurt slams his locker shut, smirking to himself when Blaine visibly jumps. “We saw each other all day Friday until midnight, and we saw each other every day at school all week, and we even went out to the movies Tuesday night after seeing each other until eight at Rachel's’ “mandatory tech rehearsal.” 

Kurt starts heading toward his first class, brushing past Blaine in the process, and he hears Blaine jogging to catch up. “But Kurt, I thought when I transferred, that--”

This time, Kurt does interrupt him. “You thought what?” he says, raising an eyebrow but keeping his voice low and steady. “That I’d be oh-so-grateful that I’d drop everything any time you wanted to hang out with me?”

Blaine sounds breathless, falling into stride next to Kurt. “That’s not what I said, Kurt, but surely you can understand how hurtful this is.”

“What.” Kurt stops, and he realizes they’re standing outside the choir room, so he steps inside, correctly anticipating that Blaine will follow. “I’m sorry, but you can’t have just said it’s hurtful to you because we didn’t see each other one weekend.” Blaine twists his mouth up to the side and Kurt would swear he’s almost batting his eyelashes. “Oh my god. You _do_.”

“Can you blame me?” Blaine’s eyebrows knit together, and he looks to Kurt like someone who just lost his puppy. 

“Yes, Blaine. I can. But I have some good news for you,” Kurt says calmly. “Your weekends from now on are going to be very, very free for you to spend them with someone willing to give you the time you need.” 

“Kurt, please, you’re being unreasonable.”

“No. I’m not,” Kurt says, ignoring Blaine’s whining and the way he has his hands clasped to his chest dramatically. “I hope we can eventually be friends, if nothing else than for the sake of our mutual pursuit of a championship. I’m sure we can be adult enough for that.” 

At that, Kurt brushes past Blaine and heads out of the choir room, holding his head high enough so people don’t get the idea that _he_ had been the one dumped before the first bell. 

Kurt feels light in a way he hasn’t since before he transferred to Dalton, and he carries that good feeling with him to lunch, where he piles up a plate with burgers and a salad and joins Puck and Finn at their table. 

Puck pauses with his burger already half in his mouth. “Wha a’ oo’ ooin’ ‘ere?”

Kurt raises an eyebrow but he has to cover his hand with his mouth when Finn tries to stuff the whole rest of the burger into Puck’s mouth and Puck flails at him. “I can’t eat with my wonderful brother and our friend?” 

“Puck wants to know where Blaine is,” Finn says, his hand still covering Puck’s mouth. Puck is glaring at him and trying to grab Finn’s hair as Finn ducks out of the way. 

“Blaine is...no more. As my boyfriend!” he says hurriedly when Finn’s eyes get huge. “We broke up.” He congratulates himself on giving Blaine a chance to save face, as least. 

“Oh shit, Kurt, I’m sorry,” Finn says, dropping his hand from Puck’s mouth. Puck glares even harder and throws a tomato slice at Finn’s face, where it bounces off and lands on the floor somewhere. Kurt waves his hand. 

“It’s fine. It was for the best, really. It’s not like I was going to be dating my high school sweetheart after we graduate.” 

Puck has a funny look on his face, his eyes cast toward Finn, and Kurt slaps his hand over his mouth. “I mean it’s not for me, of course,” he continues. “If I get into NYADA, it’ll really be best for me to not be tied down to a high school romance.” 

Puck throws his hands up this time, and Kurt covers his whole face with his hands. “I _mean_ ”, he attempts, his words muffled, “that I don’t have the ability to balance priorities the way a lot of people do.” He finishes weakly and looks up and Puck and Finn. Puck is nodding but Finn is looking down at his burger, not eating. Shit. 

“I meant--” Puck cuts Kurt off with a shake of his head, and the rest of the meal is eaten mostly in silence, Puck attempting to cajole Finn periodically by sticking fries up his nose. By the time the bell rings, Finn’s at least eaten the rest of his meal and has been grinning at Puck. 

Kurt heads to his next class, groaning inwardly. Making Finn feel terrible about his relationship and his future was not on the list of things Kurt had planned to do that day. At least Finn has Puck to take care of him, though, Kurt thinks, snorting a little. Who’s going to cheer up Blaine? 

 

Finn doesn’t get any answers as to why Puck glared at him. Not during Mario on Sunday night and not all through school on Monday. Everything seems back to normal though, at least as Puck is concerned, so Finn brushes it off as one of those things he just might never know about. The only weird thing about Monday is that Puck doesn’t think about Rachel at all again on his own, which means he hasn’t thought about her since he went to bed Friday night. It’s not until he’s at his locker after homeroom, pulling out books for Spanish and History, that he thinks about Rachel at all, and that’s only because she walks up to him, smiling.

“I was thinking about our fight all weekend, Finn, as I’m sure you were, too, and I’m happy to tell you that I have forgiven you!” She gets up on her tiptoes, obviously looking for a kiss, and Finn can’t think of any good reason why he shouldn’t be kissing her, so he gives her a peck on the lips. That must work, because she beams, her eyes sparkling. “Good, so it’s settled. Our fight is over. Thank you for being so reasonable.” She leans up again, kissing Finn on the cheek this time, and walks away, her skirt flipping up behind her. 

Finn shakes his head. He knows he should feel guilty for not thinking about Rachel, and maybe even guiltier because he’s not planning on spending any time thinking about her at all that day, but he doesn’t feel anything like that. Mostly he’s just relieved that Rachel walked away only wanting a peck on the lips, and maybe he should feel guilty about that too, or at least feel _something_ about what that means about his relationship, but he just can’t muster up the energy. 

When Kurt makes his comment at lunch, Finn’s not hurt or insulted or any of the things Kurt seems to think he is when he keeps trying to explain what he meant. He _is_ confused, though, because if someone had asked him a week ago if he’d wanted to stay with Rachel next year after all, he might have said yes. But now… the idea just feels wrong to Finn and for Finn, and he’s not sure he can put a finger on why. 

He’d probably have ended up staring down at his plate and thinking for the rest of lunch, but then Puck elbows him, and when Finn looks up, Puck has fries in his nose. 

“Dingus,” Finn snorts, and smacks Puck on the back of the head until the fries fly out. 

“Why, did you want some?” Puck holds out the fries.

“Dude!” Finn shoves Puck, grinning, and they spend the rest of lunch that way, shoving each other with one arm and finishing their burgers with the other. When Finn looks back up, Kurt’s gone. Finn shrugs. Maybe he wanted to go before Blaine showed up. 

 

After dinner, Finn heads into the living room with his Spanish book. Kurt’s sitting on the big armchair like he usually does, his legs tucked up underneath him and a mug of something in his hand. Cocoa, Finn’s hoping, because that would mean his mom _bought_ cocoa. He’s reading a book, and Finn’s pretty sure it’s for-fun reading, because Kurt doesn’t have a pen or notebook out. 

Finn lies on the couch, his legs hanging over the arm, and opens his book. He tries to study but the words keep swimming in front of his eyes, and for a language he can’t even really speak, let alone read, that doesn’t exactly make for good studying. Eventually he closes the book heavily and tosses it on the floor, letting out a sigh. 

“Something on your mind?” 

Finn cranes his neck until he can see Kurt, who’s eyeing him over the top of his mug. Finn groans and sits up, shaking his head more to focus his vision than tell Kurt “no,” but Kurt takes it the second way anyway. “Okay, well,” he says, shrugging, “if that changes, I’ll be up for a bit. Won’t be able to sleep, myself.” Kurt’s smile looks a little regretful, and Finn frowns. 

“Did mom get cocoa?” 

Kurt nods. “The kind in the canister. Marshmallows, too. I hid the rest of the bag in the Lazy Susan.” 

“Sweet!” Finn stands up. “Sure you’ll still be here when I come back with my cocoa?” 

“Scouts’ honor.” He winks and holds up three fingers. 

“That’s the Girl Scouts’ salute I think, dude. I remember when Angie was one of those Daisies.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t going to do the Boy Scouts’ one, either, even if I hadn’t dropped out before Bear Cubs.” He smiles dryly. “Get your cocoa.”

Finn does, filling the mug up most of the way with marshmallows first before he pours the cocoa in, and takes the whole thing carefully back to the living room. 

“We have saucers,” Kurt says, but he sounds like he’s going to laugh. 

“I like it like this,” Finn shrugs. “One less dish to wash.” 

“How-- never mind.” Kurt shakes his head. “So how are things with you? I feel like I didn’t see you this weekend, except for our very nice Pop Tart breakfast on Saturday.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, “I was in my room most of the time. Seemed like the best place. Then I went to Puck’s Sunday night. He likes Morley Safer.” 

“Oh, well,” Kurt’s eyebrows go up again, and he takes a sip of his cocoa. “That’s a good person to like, I suppose.”

“Yeah, he says that it’s not the same since Andy Rooney left.” 

“No, I don’t suppose it is,” Kurt says, shaking his head, and he looks like he’s trying not to laugh again. “But how are _you_? Besides watching Sunday night news programs, that is.” 

“I’m okay,” Finn says, shrugging. “Everything after Sectionals felt weird, though, I guess.” 

“Weird how?” Kurt says, closing his book. He looks at Finn closely. 

“I dunno. I guess I sort of thought I’d be more excited about everything after, you know? The win, R--, finishing up the semester.” He takes a big gulp of his marshmallow-cocoa, wincing. “Everything, I guess.” 

“I see. Well, I can’t say I don’t understand the feeling.” Kurt purses his lips. 

“Oh, man, I’m sorry, how are _you_ doing? You know,” Finn waves his hand in Kurt’s general direction, “with the Blaine stuff.”

“It’s amazing,” Kurt says, looking thoughtful. “I never thought it would happen so fast.” 

“Oh, yeah, you guys haven’t been dating that long.” Finn nods in what he hopes is an understanding way. He doesn’t tell Kurt that all of them had been surprised Kurt and Blaine had lasted long enough for Blaine to transfer to begin with. 

“Not fast that way, no,” Kurt says. “Fast like one day I thought I was in love with him and the next thing I knew, I couldn’t even remember what it felt like to have a crush on him anymore.” 

“Oh.” Finn takes another big mouthful of his cocoa, and when Kurt doesn’t say anything, he drinks more. When he’s stalled as long as he can, he carefully swallows and looks down, mumbling, “How do you know that means it’s over?” 

Kurt doesn’t say anything for a while, and when Finn looks up, he’s just sitting there, watching Finn. Apparently he was waiting for Finn to look back up, though, because he starts talking almost as soon as Finn does. 

“Do you want to know what my thought process was?” Finn nods. “It was during “Man in the Mirror,” Kurt says slowly. “Blaine was singing, and I just looked at him and realized I felt nothing.” 

“And that was it?” Finn puts his coffee cup down, feeling kind of cold all over. 

“Well, I had thought so, but when I really started listening to the lyrics, and you know the part that talks about a selfish kind of love? I know what Michael Jackson meant there, but all _I_ could think about was how that had been my entire relationship with Blaine. All of it.” 

“That he was selfish, right?” Finn’s not sure if it’s okay to acknowledge what him and Puck had been saying about Blaine for months. 

“Exactly. Everything he’d done had been for _his_ benefit. I realized he hadn’t ever really had my best interests at heart. Once that light bulb went on, it was easier to end things than I thought it would be.” 

“Oh man, that’s...that’s good to know, Kurt. Thanks.” Finn’s suddenly feeling kind of weird and woozy, so he heads up to his room without another look back at Kurt, leaving his dirty mug behind. Kurt could wash it. Finn’s pretty sure he won’t mind. 

 

Puck’s stretched out on his bed, one hand lazily stroking his dick and the other one flipping through channels. He settles on the 1am broadcast of SportsCenter and focuses in on the task at...well...hand. He tries just envisioning a phantom hand in place of his own, but it’s clear the hand he’s picturing and feeling is way bigger and rougher than his, and it’s not much of a leap after that to picture Finn there with him. Puck guiltily gives in, imagining Finn stroking him, his body big and long and feeling like it’s _everywhere_. Puck moans quietly, picturing Finn’s eyes going wide as he watched his hand around Puck’s dick. Finn would be hard in his shorts before he started, Puck decides. Hard and pressing against Puck’s hip when he’d lean down to kiss him. Puck’s hand moves faster, just like Finn’s would when he’d feel Puck grind up. It would probably lose rhythm, even, and Puck lets his hand stutter a little, picturing it. 

It feels real in a way that Puck’s fantasies never do, and he lets his legs fall open. Finn would gasp when he felt Puck open his legs wide enough for Finn to slide between them. Puck would arch his hips up, too; no way would he be able to stop them. Puck can hear Finn’s surprised ragged breathing in his ear. He’d have to hold himself up, too, so he could keep moving his hand. Puck’s own hand grips a little tighter, the friction almost too much, like he’s sure Finn would do when he got excited. Puck’s hips are arching higher now, like he’s looking for something that he’s not getting, and before he realizes what’s happening, his first two fingers are tracing lightly around his hole. 

Puck stops, both hands completely still, and thinks it over. He hadn’t ever really limited himself to girls in any kind of theoretical way, which was the only way he had a chance to do it in Lima, and he’d known, intellectually, that this falling in love with Finn thing wasn’t just a romantic feeling. But this feels concrete and real, and the idea of of _wanting_ it so bad, and not just from a hypothetical guy, but _Finn_ , is heady and dizzying and really really hot. 

He stops any pretense of a drawn out fantasy and leans over to his bedside table. There’s an old tube of hand cream from the winter Puck refused to wear gloves on principle, and he gets it open with one hand, smearing what looks like way too much all over his fingers. Satisfied that too much is probably better than not enough, he returns his fingers to his hole--which seems like a gross word when he’s doing _this_ with it, but Puck can’t make himself care--and nudges both his fingertips inside at once. 

It burns a little, but the hand cream makes it so he can get them both in to the first knuckle without any actual pain. There’s a little bit of a stretch, but it feels good, and Puck can feel his body opening up around his own fingers. Like it would with Finn’s dick, he thinks, and that thought is enough for him to slide his fingers in the rest of the way he can reach, biting his lip until the burning turns into a throb. He feels so _full_ , and his dick jumps in his hand at the sensation. Puck closes his eyes, imagining now that it’s Finn making that fullness. He slides his fingers in and out experimentally, and he has to quickly turn his face into his pillow to stifle the moan. _It’s like Finn’s dick sliding in and out of me_ , he thinks, starting to move both hands a little faster. _It’s like Finn _fucking_ me_.

That’s all Puck needs, apparently, and he comes hard all over his chest and stomach, pulsing around his fingers in a way that’s completely new but not at all unwelcome. He slowly lowers his hips back to the bed and unbends his knees. He’s a mess, he thinks, wrinkling his nose and both of his hands. He wipes them and his stomach off on the t-shirt he wore to school. Now that his orgasm is over, the creep of guilt is starting to crawl into his gut again, and his sighs. Jerking off to your best friend is one thing. People probably do it all the time, Puck figures. But jerking off to the best friend you fell in love with is something different all together. Puck rolls onto his side and grabs his phone, figuring he’ll play some Angry Birds before he falls asleep, but as he’s sliding his phone on, a text comes through. 

_will u come over_

Puck doesn’t have time to respond before it’s followed by another one.

_please?_

He raises an eyebrow at the question mark and listens for any sign of his Ma still up. When Puck hears nothing, he texts back that he’ll be there “in ten” and tugs a pair of jeans and a hoodie on, shoving his feet into a pair of old work boots. 

There isn’t really time for Puck to keep feeling guilty, which is a point in the text’s favor, but now he’s worried about Finn. He worries about Finn, in fact, the entire drive to the Hudmels’, which admittedly takes way quicker than it should. 

Finn’s waiting at the back door when Puck walks up, his truck parked a few houses down. He has a slightly panicked look on his face and opens the door wordlessly, leading Puck up to his room. 

“I have to break up with her,” Finn blurts before Puck’s the the door all the way closed. 

“Wait, you what?” Puck frowns. There’s no way he heard Finn right. 

“I have to. Break up with Rachel, I mean.” Finn looks even more panicked now and Puck can see that his hands are shaking. 

“Okay, it’s okay.” Puck realizes he probably looks really stunned, so he schools his face. Of all the way he’d pictured Option 1 going, none of them were this fast and this definite. “Let’s go sit on your bed, okay?”

Finn nods, so Puck leads him over to the bed, a hand on Finn’s lower back. “Okay,” he says, once Finn is sitting back against his pillows with Puck across from him. “Why do you have to break up with Rachel?”

“Because I don’t love her!” Finn says, and he looks like he’s about to cry so Puck scoots closer and takes Finn’s hand, running his thumb across the knuckles. It feels thrilling and heavy but Puck pushes that down, focusing on stroking Finn’s knuckles in a steady rhythm. Finn looks down at the their hands, eyes wide, but when he looks back at Puck’s face, he’s smiling just a little. “I don’t love her,” Finn says again, and it’s calmer now. “I thought I did and then she wanted to make out on Friday night, but the idea sounded terrible. She’s not ugly or anything!” Finn says quickly, and Puck chuckles, because there’s no way Finn Hudson would intentionally imply a girl was ugly. 

“I know, Finn,” Puck says, continuing the stroking. He can feel Finn’s hand relaxing. “Was there any other way you knew?” 

“I didn’t think about her at all this weekend,” Finn says. “I wasn’t even upset that she was mad at me for not wanting to make out.” Puck rolls his eyes, because of course Rachel would throw a tantrum over that. “And then this morning I think I even forgot she was my girlfriend. When I saw her, I wasn’t excited or anything.”

“Yeah,” Puck says, because he sure as hell knows how it feels to get excited just when someone you like walks in the door. “But you were only going to be with her until graduation, right?” He means it to sound gentle, but it probably comes out hopeful instead. 

“I guess so, but I figured that it’d be one of those mutual things, you know? Like we’d just say goodbye and leave for college and go on with our lives.” Finn’s eyes are really shiny so Puck looks away, squeezing Finn’s hand gently when he does. “I didn’t think that I’d have to do the breaking up with!” 

Puck sighs because, yeah, Finn would feel awful about that. “It sounds like it’s the best thing to do, though.” Finn nods. “It’d be a dumb waste of senior year to be dating someone you don’t like.” Finn cracks a smile, finally, and Puck realizes he’s grinning back.

“Would you...can you stay? You can sleep on the floor,” Finn says, sounding like he does not at all want Puck to sleep on the floor. “Or, you know. Like when we were kids…”

Shit. The first part of Option 1 might be going well, but Puck still has no idea if Finn even _could_ have feelings for Puck, let alone if he does, and sleeping in a double bed with Finn seems like a seriously terrible idea if the answers to both of those questions is no. But Finn’s eyes are still a little wide and shiny, and he hasn’t asked Puck for this since they were in middle school and Finn had that stretch of nightmares about giant Power Rangers in his bedroom. 

“Yeah, all right,” Puck says, kicking off his boots and crawling under the covers next to Finn. He turns on his side facing Finn in what is hopefully the least likely position to end in Puck trying to cuddle Finn during the night. 

“Thanks, dingus,” Finn says softly, and this time he reaches for Puck’s hand, squeezing it once but not letting go. “Dunno what I’d do without you.” Finn’s eyes drift closed and Puck watches his chest rise and fall as his breathing evens out. When Puck’s sure Finn’s asleep, he lets himself settle against the pillows, looking at where they’re still holding hands. 

“Me either, dingus,” he yawns. “Let’s not find out.”

 

It’s still pitch black when Finn wakes up, and it takes him a minute to figure out what feels different. The first thing he realizes is that Puck is in his bed. The second thing Finn realizes is that Puck is curled up against him, his head on Finn’s chest. It probably should feel weird, being 17 and cuddling in bed with his best friend, but instead it feels really warm and comfortable. Puck’s breathing is deep, his body rising and falling a little bit with each breath. His arm is draped across Finn’s chest and curled around Finn’s side. It’s the safest and happiest Finn’s felt in a long time--definitely since before he started dating Rachel again--and he pulls Puck closer. 

The third thing Finn realizes is that he wants to do it again. 

It’s weird, Finn thinks, finding out that you have feelings for your best friend. It’s not like getting struck by lightning or something, like Finn had figured things like this happened to people. Instead, he realizes, it’s been a kind of slow build, like that Ker-plunk game where you remove the sticks one by one until everything comes crashing down. Except this isn’t scary at all, and Finn’s doesn’t feel like he’s lost any kind of game. Yeah, Puck’s a dude, but he’s also _Puck_ , and having feelings for Puck is just like a more awesome ramped-up version of being friends with Puck. 

Maybe Puck can read minds or something, because he suddenly snuffles against Finn’s chest and makes an “mmm” noise. “Shhhh, stay asleep,” Finn whispers. Holding Puck like this is way cooler than it has any right to be, and Finn wants to just selfishly enjoy it for a little longer before they both have to get up. 

“It’s crazy, right?” Finn whispers into the top of Puck’s head. I mean, it’s crazy how not-crazy this feels. You’ve been here all along and I had no idea.” He rubs circular patterns into Puck’s back. “I never thought I’d like a guy, but I guess I’d never ruled it out either, huh? Dude, but this feels so different from how I ever felt about Quinn or Rachel. I guess that means it’s for real.” Finn stops and then laughs at himself. “Maybe I shouldn’t call you ‘dude’ about this, either.”

Finn’s yawning now and he feels himself drifting off. “I’ll tell you all this for real sometime. I promise.” 

 

When Finn wakes up again, it’s definitely morning and Puck’s gone. Finn knows it would have been too risky for Puck to sneak back in too close to the time Ms. P woke up, but he can’t help but feel a little disappointed. 

Finn’s halfway through getting dressed by the time he remembers what he actually has to do today, and he has the thought that maybe he’ll just fake sick. Maybe he’ll fake sick all the way through to graduation, and then Rachel will assume they’re broken up anyway. But Finn would probably make a bunch of New Directions people angry, including Mr. Schue, and besides, Puck is at school and not at home with Finn. 

He manages to get to school before Rachel _and_ Puck, and he makes himself look busy at his locker until he hears the click-click of those loafer shoes Rachel wears. 

“Rach, we have to talk,” Finn starts saying before he even turns to face her. He knows if he doesn’t do this quick and without her interrupting, it might not happen. A part of Finn feels mean even thinking that, but he reassures himself that it’d be meaner to let Rachel keep thinking they were dating. 

He must sound pretty serious because Rachel snaps her mouth shut and looks at him with the face she makes when she knows something’s about to happen that she’s not going to like. 

“I think it’s just going to be the best thing for both of us--for our _futures_ ,” Finn ad-libs “if we go our separate ways now instead of in August.” Rachel’s nostrils are starting to flare, so Finn starts talking faster. “You deserve to be able to focus on your applications and auditions without dating me. You know I’m a distraction, Rach.” Finn grins, hoping she’ll find it funny. 

“But Finn, I--” Rachel looks more confused than upset now, which Finn takes as a win. 

“You know I’ll always care about you, but you’re going to be bigger than this relationship and this town. Consider this uh--” Finn frowns. “An early graduation gift!” 

Rachel looks like she’s thinking everything over and Finn eyes her, still not sure how much of what he said is going to stick. 

“Thank you, Finn,” Rachel says, reaching for Finn’s hands. The movement’s so sudden that Finn almost pulls away. “I’ll always remember you.” She blinks quickly, though Finn doesn’t see any tears there, and squeezes his hands. “Good-bye.” 

Finn does a double-take after her, almost unable to believe how easy that was, and he grins to himself before he can help it, ducking his head inside his locker to hide it. It’s not a _great_ feeling, breaking up with someone, but it’s freeing in a way Finn was hoping for. Today’s going to be way better than Finn was expecting. 

 

Despite his best intentions, Puck ends up falling back to sleep after he sneaks back home, which means by the time he wakes up, confused and groggy, he’s in danger of missing homeroom. Puck grudgingly pulls on a long-sleeve shirt and jeans that pass the sniff test. Oversleeping also means that he doesn’t get to think about what Finn said to him in the middle of the night. or what Finn said to asleep-him, anyway. It’s ridiculous and surreal but Puck’s 100% sure he didn’t dream it, which means that Finn really does have feelings for him. 

The idea’s wild and something Puck had been unprepared for even in his more liberal estimates of Option 1, but everything else has been wild since Sectionals anyway, so it’s not entirely surprising that this isn’t any different. 

Puck pulls into the parking lot just before homeroom starts, but he decides to skip anyway. Maybe the caf is still open and Puck can get a cinnamon roll with extra icing. He walks extra slowly into the building to be sure all the homeroom teachers are in their classrooms, and heads to his locker to dump his books. 

When Puck turns down their hall, though, he sees that Finn is standing at his locker with a goofy look on his face. Puck raises an eyebrow and spins his lock. “Having a nice morning?”

“I did it,” Finn says, not breaking the grin. “I broke up with her and she was fine with it and now we’re broken up.” 

Puck chuckles before he can swallow it. “You’re not happy about it or anything though, huh?” 

“Puck, this is so cool! I can go to whatever college I want and I can eat pepperoni pizza again and I can date whoever I want now.” 

“Is that right?” Puck takes a step toward Finn so he can lower his voice. “Have anyone in mind?” 

“Uh,” Finn cheeks turn pink and he looks away. 

“You know,” Puck says, stepping even closer. “it _is_ really realizing you have feelings for your best friend.” 

“Oh.” Finn looks back down at Puck’s face like he’s not sure what Puck’s saying and maybe doesn’t want to say anything in case he’s wrong.

“I’m speaking from very recent experience,” Puck says, leaning in to whisper in Finn’s ear. “And maybe future experience?” 

When Puck pulls back, Finn’s face is _definitely_ pink, but he’s grinning. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Awesome,” Puck says, grinning back. “So we’re in agreement?”

Finn nods quickly, and Puck can’t help himself; he tilts his head and kisses Finn softly, just once. “So we’re also in agreement that we should skip the rest of the day, then?” 

“Oh yeah.” 

They head out of the building and into the parking lot, where the morning December sun makes Puck blink, laughing at Finn’s identical face. He looks around the parking lot and when the coast is clear, he slides his hand into Finn’s, not letting go until they get to their trucks to head home.


End file.
